


I Can't Make You Love Me

by bovaria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is in love with the reader, but will not confess it to her. When she gets a boyfriend, he is forced to keep quiet about his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Make You Love Me

“Hey, sweetheart, you prefer cheese or meat lovers?” Dean inquired as you stepped into the library, glancing up from where he was ordering pizza.

“Uh, I have a date with Paul tonight,” you shot him a sheepish grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, it’s Friday night,” he raised his arms. “Sam and I finally have a day in which we can relax and lay back, chug some beers and eat pizza. I thought you could join us and—”

“I know, Dean, I know,” you sat on the armrest of his chair and ruffled his blond hair, kissing his temple. “But I planned this date out and I haven’t exactly had quality time with my boyfriend lately. Research here has been crazy and his work is quite hectic. I promise I’ll spend time with you both tomorrow, okay?”

“Have fun,” Sam winked, reciprocating the kiss you blew at him while Dean pretended to nonchalantly shrug as you kissed his cheek and walked out.

“So, Sammy, I guess it’s just us and meat lovers,” Dean mumbled as he pressed the ‘order’ button on the screen.

“Dude, you’re pathetic,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head at his older brother.

“What? What are you talking about?” the blond man slid his phone into his pocket and got on his feet to fetch some beer from the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Sam waved him away, knowing it’d be useless to argue with Dean.

The shorter man shot his brother a weird look before sauntering out of the library and into the kitchen. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying not to give in to the jealousy coursing through him.

Dean had been crushing on you from the day you had accepted Sam’s invitation to crash at the bunker for a while, only for it to turn permanent. You had been a victim of angry, ancient gods who had annihilated everyone around you and seeing as you had nowhere else to go, the Winchesters became your lifesavers.

It was only physical attraction at first. Dean never thought he’d meet that one girl that could make him go weak at the knees by just one glance into his eyes or a smile that would cause the words to erase themselves from his mind. He’d flirt with you and be stupefied when you’d reciprocate it, often leaving him slack-jaw in the middle of the room as you laughed along to whatever joke Sam would say to save his brother some face.

Then he got to know you. He’d realize that you’d always pick at your food until every bit of onion was out, yet never asked for the waitress to remove before bringing it to you because it was too much work for them. You liked listening to the rock songs he’d play on the road, but the way your eyes shone when a ballad flowed through the speakers made the hunter start scavenging for the radio stations that would cause that twinkle in your eyes. He’d pretend he hated them, yet the end of the songs always ended with Dean Winchester lip syncing with you.

He’d always chase Sam out of the passenger seat whenever the road trip extended to nighttime. Glancing over at you sleeping with your head resting on the door, lips slight parted, always calmed him and made the drive easier. He knew your schedule, kept time as to when you’d be emerging from the shower to pretend that he was casually walking out of his room and fetching a beer. He’d bump into you, make you giggle with some sort of flirty comment and watch how the wet hair stuck to your face as you struggled to keep the towel firmly wrapped around you.

Dean Winchester would always try to maintain skin contact with you. If it was during a series marathon, he’d find an excuse to sit next to you and casually hang his arm on your shoulders until you unconsciously pulled yourself closer to him. He’d coax you to keep watching T.V. well into the night, knowing you’d end up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder. Tenderly, he would hoist you up in his arms and take you to bed, sneaking a soft kiss to your forehead as he’d tuck you in.

Sam noticed his brother falling for you. He realized it when the older Winchester stopped caring about you poking at his last slice of pie, claiming it was too delicious to not share. Sam had thought Dean would snatch the bite from your fork, but his brother had just smiled and offered even more. He would often catch the green-eyed man looking at you, sneaking glances through the rearview mirror whenever you rode in the backseat, or sideways whenever Sam would switch places with you. He’d urge Dean to confess his feelings for you, yet the older man would refuse to do so. There was no use with relationships in this lifestyle. If anything, he’d keep you close to him as just a friend.

When you had walked into your regular lunches with the Winchesters along with a date, Dean had truly learned the meaning of self-control. He smiled and laughed with your new boyfriend, pretending to be interested in whatever the topic of conversation was, but wanting to throw him across the room whenever the man pecked your lips or you’d lean closer to him and whisper into his ear. Sam steered the conversation when Dean was unable to talk and to say those were the longest two hours of the older Winchester’s life was an understatement.

You saw your boyfriend more often than Dean and Sam. You’d sleep over his house and spend your days with him, walking around town and even helping out with the small business he had opened in the same building he lived in. Paul was like a breath of fresh air to you, something new to the whole monster business you constantly saw. The moments you shared with the hunters became sparse and tonight was no exception.

Dean slumped down on his seat, ignoring Sam’s pitying look, and decided to just surf the web on his phone. Nothing seemed to be so fun anymore, at least not with you. He resorted to watching funny videos of people failing epically at things, something you had shown him on a long road trip a few months ago. You had laughed so hard and almost caused him to crash that he had to pull over as the two of you tried to calm down your laughter.

Dean shut the screen off, sliding the phone away from him and groaned. Sam shook his head, continuing his typing and not comprehending how his brother was so passive about letting you go. The older man was about to get up and fetch the pizza he had ordered when his phone rang, your ringtone permeating the air. Dean could only stare at it, scared that somehow you had known he was thinking about you and made a call to his phone.

“Are you gonna answer that?” Sam made to reach for the device.

“Give me that,” Dean glared at his brother before swiping his thumb across the screen. “Hey, sweetheart, is everything okay?” he turned on his heels, rolling his eyes at Sam’s knowing smirk.

“D-Dean,” you sobbed into the phone and Dean felt his shoulders stiffen.

“Whoa, baby, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“D-Dean, he’s cheating on me,” you continued to cry out, words barely decipherable but enough for the man to understand you. “Gosh, I am so stupid.”

“Whoa, where are you, Y/N?” he saw red, somehow fetching the keys from the tabletop and grabbing the nearest jacket and shrugging it on.

“I-in front of his house,” you covered your mouth, trying to stop the cries. “Dean, please, pick me up. I can’t.”

“I’m coming, baby, I’ll be right there,” Dean climbed into the Impala, engine roaring to life as the tires squealed on the concrete. He tightened his hold on the steering wheel and prayed the fucker was still there for him to beat.

* * *

Tires squealed in front of you and quick, heavy steps made their way towards your shuddering frame. You couldn’t have cared less about looking pathetic and feeble in front of Dean, dialing his number on auto pilot as soon as your brain had processed what you had seen.

Paul had been late for the date, not even bothering to call you and make you aware that he’d be caught up with something else. Worried that he wasn’t even returning any of your texts, you had called a taxi cab and gone to his building. Being that it was fairly old, you got in without a key and pretty soon, your hand was around the front door’s handle and you let yourself in.

Strange sounds emanated from the main bedroom. It sounded like Paul was grunting. At first, you panicked and feared some monster had gotten to him and he was well on his way to being killed. You dashed towards the source of the noise before stopping mid-step at the sound of a feminine moan. Paul’s name belted from her throat, ecstasy lacing through the notes of her voice. 0

Realization poured over you like cold water, making bile rise up to your throat as you attempted to hold yourself back from opening the bedroom door. But your emotions got the best of you. You _had_ to confirm if it was true, because what if you weren’t and began to accuse him of something he didn’t do? The door gave way to Paul panting and struggling to remain upright as he hovered right above the body of a brunette. They were both unaware of your presence and before they could notice, you had made a run for the exit.

Sobs escaped your throat, tears fogging your vision and doubling the difficulty of you descending the stairs as you tried not to trip and fall. Paul had been the one thing you could count on at being normal and you had come to trust him very much. You burst out of the building chest threatening to burst as you fetched your phone out of your purse.

Why you chose to call Dean and not Sam was something you’d come to terms with later on, but it was the older Winchester’s voice you needed to hear at that very moment. He answered following three rings and quickly promised he’d be there in no time. Having no other option but to wait, you huddled on the front steps of your ex-boyfriend’s home.

Dean cupped your face tenderly, as if holding something so fragile it’d break apart in his fingers. His eyes were misty as they took your complexion in. You laughed dryly at having him see you in this state.

“Is he still in there?” his voice trembled.

“Yeah, he doesn’t know I saw him,” you answered, accepting Dean’s embrace and digging your face into his chest.

“Okay, sweetheart, come here,” he helped you on your feet, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, kissing your temple.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way over here, Dean,” you felt guilty for interrupting the Winchester’s quiet evening.

“Sweetheart, nothing makes me gladder to know that you counted on me,” he opened the Impala’s door for you and kept his hand on the small of your back as you climbed in.

“Thank you, Dean,” you grasped his wrist, fingers squeezing as a grateful smile etched itself on your face.

“Don’t thank me yet, Y/N,” he winked playfully and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to need you stay here, okay? Promise me that you won’t leave this very seat.”

“Dean, what—”

“Just stay here, alright?” he gave your forehead one last peck before straightening his legs and swiveling on his heels. You gazed at his broad shoulders, noticing the tension and trembling of his hands as he flexed the digits. You knew that Dean was going to rip Paul a new one, but hurt and betrayal clouded your judgement and you let the hunter walk away.

The blond man climbed the stairs in two, pupils blown wide with a frenzy akin to a wild animal. To see you cradling yourself, forlorn and tears running down your cheeks when you had done absolutely nothing to deserve it, was something he never wanted to see you go through again. And he’d make damn sure Paul would learn his lesson.

Due to the fact that he sometimes would pick you up from your former boyfriend’s apartment, Dean knew the room number and was soon kicking the door in. His boots were thunderous as he stomped to the master bedroom, slamming the door open.

“Hey, what the fuck? This is private pro—” Paul recognized Dean and swallowed thickly. Although he had never gotten along with the older Winchester as he had with Sam, Paul respected Dean. Something in the man’s green eyes let him know that he was not to be messed around with.

“You stood her up and then had the fucking guts to do this?” the hunter strode across the room and grabbed Paul by the shoulders, disregarding the state of undress he and his lover were in. Launching him across the room, Paul landed on his back and huffed out a heavy breath. Dean was on him in a jiff, throwing punches whichever way he could. There was the sickening sound of bones breaking as Paul’s nose gave way to one of the hits, a tooth even being spat out in the middle of the beating.

The girl who had been sleeping with your ex-boyfriend was finally knocked out of her daze and she began to scream bloody murder. Hastily wrapping a blanket around her body, she struggled to make a run for help.

“I don’t think so,” Dean grinned devilishly, clutching a piece of blanket that was trailing behind her and pulling it towards him. The girl collapsed, unable to move any farther from the brawl.

“Hey, she did nothing,” Paul protested.

“Buddy, if you wanna keep what’s left of your teeth, I advise you to shut that fucking mouth of yours,” the blond Winchester gritted his teeth and raised his fist one last time.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” the bleeding man covered his head with his arms.

“Fucking bitch,” Dean muttered, before getting on his feet and wiping his hands on the bed sheets. The couple shot him nervous glances, but he ignored them and began to march out of the room. Paul was sighing in relief when Dean turned on his toes and pointed a threatening finger at him. “You go near her and you’d wish I had killed you right now.”

Not allowing him to answer, Dean exited the room and a few seconds later, the front door had been slammed back to its place. With the ire draining out of him, Dean dashed down the stairs and sprinted out of the building, jogging until he had gotten to the car. You had not moved, smiling softly as you saw the obvious relief that flooded his expression when he realized you had stayed.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” you wrinkled your nose at him.

“No, he’s alive, unfortunately,” he kneeled and grinned at you, hand rising to cup your jaw. “You’re doing better?”

“I’ll be okay,” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, Dean Winchester.”

“Well, you’d be crying alone in some taxi cab right now,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up,” you shoved his shoulder as he chuckled, eyes wrinkling in elation at making you giggle at least once.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he thumbed your cheekbone, eyes staring into yours in tenderness for a few seconds before he was getting on his feet, lips fleetingly kissing your cheek. He walked around the black car and opened the driver’s side.

“Now, do we go back to the bunker?” Dean questioned as he climbed in.

“Uh, yeah, but I have to go to that really nice Italian restaurant, Giorgo’s,” you explained.

“Why?” the blond man inquired, veering to the right and letting you guide him through the town.

“Uh, just because,” your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Having your date stand you up after planning such a cheesy thing for the both of you was shaming enough without Dean having to know what your plans were going to be.

“Cancel reservations?” he perked a brow, noticing how pink your cheeks were.

“Y-yes,” you answered, pausing before nodding your head.

“I don’t believe that,” he slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “Tell me what you had planned, Y/N?” Dean insisted, coming up with the sudden idea that maybe he could replace Paul tonight.

“No, it’s too cheesy and you would just laugh at me,” you mumbled, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” Dean’s voice was softer, cajoling you to trust him.

“Fine, but promise you won’t laugh,” you held out your pinky.

“I promise,” he looked dead serious as he intertwined his finger with yours.

“I paid for cooking classes with the head chef,” you whispered, yet it was loud enough for Dean to hear.

“So, you want to go back to the restaurant because,” Dean paused.

“To convince her to give me a refund,” you pouted. “They were quite pricey and this bastard just stood me up. Fuck, I can’t believe I wasted money—”

“I’ll go with you,” Dean grinned.

“No, Dean, that’s okay,” you scoffed. The man was never one to take a cooking class just because, especially just to make you feel better after being cheated on.

“I want to though,” he smiled, trying not to show the obvious elation going through him at being able to go on a date with you. “I’ll be your date for tonight, sweetheart.”

“Dean,” you rested your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s a date,” he winked and pulled up at the valet parking at Giorgo’s.

* * *

“Oh, you look beautiful, darling!” the head chef greeted you with a kiss to your cheek, turning her eyes towards Dean. “And is this handsome boy your date?”

“Yes, Dean, meet Marta, Marta, this is Dean, my date,” you winked at him and Dean found himself blushing, rubbing the back of his neck. He nervously shook hands with the chef, who could only think him cute as he fidgeted on his feet.

“Very well, darlings, let’s get this show on the road,” she clapped her hands and ushered you both to the back of the restaurant and into the kitchen. In there, she had already set apart a tiny corner for the class you had reserved.

“Thank you so much for having us, Marta,” you sat on one of the stools, grinning as Dean took his seat next to yours. He was awfully quiet but you thought it polite to create brief small talk with the chef.

“Oh, honey, it is an honor to have you here,” she cupped your face, making kissy noises before letting go. “Now, let me get the ingredients we need and we shall get started!”

“Awesome,” you grinned, watching her walk away.

“Such an honor to have you here, darling,” Dean mocked, pouting his lips and poking at your side. He was feeling too nervous and teasing you was the only way he could ease the tension he felt in his limbs.

“Shut up,” you grabbed his cheeks, squeezing hard until he had pulled away and playfully glared at you. At this, you both burst out laughing, Dean trying to hold himself upright but leaning too far back. Next thing he knew, you were high up and he had fallen butt-first on the ceramic tiles. “Oh, my God, Dean, are you okay?” you kneeled down to check if he was alright, all the while trying not to bust out in laughter.

“Oh, just laugh,” he mocked you, only for a grin to appear as you gave in to the mirth and erupted in giggles.

“Here, let me help you,” you held out your hand, winking playfully at him.

“Thanks,” he cleared his throat, heart beating twice as fast as your touch lingered on his hand, fingers squeezing before finally letting go.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Marta came back, arms laden with cooking ingredients as she set them all down. “Oh, I also brought aprons,” she grinned, holding them up. You shot Dean a glance, whose eyes widened at the matching fabrics.

“We don’t have to wear them,” you slowly drawled out.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he scoffed, taking the offered items from Martha’s outstretched hand and putting one on himself. “You tie mine, and I’ll tie yours,” he winked, turning around for you to do the honors.

“Okay, Dean,” you laughed softly, not really knowing how to react. Usually, Dean was stoic about his feelings, never one to revel in cheesy stuff like this. Was he just doing this to make you feel better?

“Alright,” he held out the apron for you to loop your head through the strap, hands landing on your waist to turn you around and tie the other two strips. Once finished, you both sat on the stools and smiled expectantly at Marta.

“Oh, young love,” she sighed dreamily. “You two make the cutest couple.”

“We aren’t dat—”

“Thank you, Marta, she’s quite the catch, isn’t she?” he interrupted you, sending a cheeky grin your way as the chef began her lesson.

The class constituted of making pasta from scratch. To your dismay, Dean was naturally skilled in kneading the flour and soon had Marta tittering over how wonderful the dough was. Meanwhile, you struggled to not let it dry too much, only to have it crumble apart in your hands.

“Let me help you out, sweetheart,” shooting you a smile, Dean took a step closer to you and grabbed the dough from your hands, quickly kneading it and fixing it until there it was ready to be made into pasta.

“Never knew you the type to cook,” you nudged Dean’s shoulder as Marta fetched the pasta machine.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he smirked, to which you reciprocated with a raised brow.

“Now, dears, we are going to make the spaghetti before boiling it,” the chef slammed the machine down on the countertop, hand motioning for Dean to begin.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

Twenty minutes later and Dean was dropping the last bunch of spaghetti into the boiling water as you put the finishing touches on the sauce Marta had taught you how to make. You found yourself blushing as Dean took a seat next to you and leaned close, whispering into your ear about how he couldn’t wait to have the pasta.

“The sauce looks delicious,” he commented. “And I probably make the best spaghetti in the world, so, we’re going to have a great end to this date.”

“Thank you, Dean,” you stopped stirring to look up at him, offering a sincere, grateful grin.

“For what?” he tilted his head, hand rising to flick a few strands of hair from your cheek, taking advantage of the moment to stroke it with the pad of his thumb.

“Seeing Paul in bed with that girl, I didn’t think I’d make it through the night without crying my eyes out, but,” you turned your head and kissed the fleshy part of his hand. “Here we are, having fun, and I haven’t even thought of him once, much less wanted to cry.”

“Good,” he leaned closer and kissed your cheek. “Because time is the last thing you want to give that son of a bitch. We have pasta to eat and he’s probably nursing a few wounds right now. Maybe even calling his dentist.”

“Oh, gosh, you sure worked a number on him, didn’t you?” you teased.

“I would have loved to wring his neck but I think I proved my point,” Dean took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. Your cheeks flushed at this, avoiding his eyes as he glanced up at you. To avoid the awkwardness you were beginning to feel, you cleared your throat and started another conversation, asking what became of Sam.

“He’s back at the bunker, being a nerd and researching,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“He missed the pasta,” you sniffed at the sauce and sighed happily. It was going to be delicious.

“I wouldn’t have brought him here either way, this is our date,” he declared, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “You’re having fun, sweetie?”

“Of course, date,” you winked, cause a smile to upturn Dean’s lips.

Twenty minutes later had Dean carrying two plates of steaming pasta to the table the chef had reserved for you. You immediately noticed the candles and wine set out, realizing that the restaurant was mostly empty save for two random couples sitting on the other side of the vicinity.

“Now, you two enjoy your date,” Marta winked, sending the both of you kisses before skittering away to the kitchen.

It was comfortable to eat with Dean. Even though you had eaten endless meals with him, it felt different this time around. Dean seemed quieter, minding where his hands went and just how big the bites he took to his mouth were. You noticed the nervous patting of his foot, smiling softly as he seemed to be extremely careful in using his utensils right and couldn’t help but to feel affectionate to this side of the man, which you had never witness

“I never took you as the guy who ate in fancy places,” you teased, softly tapping his calf with your foot.

“Like I said, Y/N,” he smugly grinned. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I can’t wait to see more,” you bit into a side of bread and wrinkled your nose.

The ride back to the bunker was comfortably quiet, as Dean let you have his jacket to blanket yourself in as he drove. You leaned your head on the car door, closing your eyes and letting the engine’s purr lull you to a light sleep.

Once parked, Dean gently shook you awake, announcing you were back home. To your surprise, he walked you through the hallways until your bedroom door stood before the two of you.

“Thank you, Dean, for everything,” you leaned close to him and softly placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he returned the kiss, placing it on your forehead and slowly pulling away. You slept peacefully that night, a smile on your lips and Paul nowhere near your thoughts. Instead, you dreamed of Dean’s laughter and how good it felt having his lips on your skin.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Dean began to change. You felt disconcerted at first, maybe he took pity on you for having been cheated on and it made you want to ignore the sweet gestures he did. At one point, he had persuaded you into accompanying him on a supply run, only to end up ushering you into the movies with him, claiming it had been spontaneous. Dean never went to the movies and you remained partly stoic the entire evening.

He was so worried you had not enjoyed your time with him that even Sam noticed and had to talk to you about it.

“He’s being really sweet, as if he feels bad for me,” you explained to the younger Winchester. He had walked into your room after you had just given Dean a sheepish smile when he had asked you to accompany him to the grocery store.

“That’s the farthest thing from Dean’s mind,” Sam chuckled.

“Then…” you waited for Sam to confirm the suspicion you now felt.

“He loves you, Y/N,” he sighed. “He’s trying to spend more time with you. You could say he’s trying to ‘woo’ you. But he’s scared that he’s chasing you away.”

“Dean _loves_ me, did I hear that right?” you placed your hand on your chest in disbelief.

“Oh, come on, as if the previous weeks haven’t been proof enough,” Sam shook his head.

“Hey, you and I both know Dean well,” you counteracted. “Isn’t his motto ‘just rolling through town’ or something?”

“Yeah, but, it’s different with you,” the tall man shrugged. “You’ve always had him wrapped around your finger, Dean just hasn’t told you anything. You should talk to him.”

“I will,” you assured, waiting for the blond man to come back in order to get some alone time with him.

“Dean—”

“Sweetheart, get yourself ready, we’re going to help Rob with a hunt that went awry,” he interrupted you. “He got himself kidnapped, the dumbass.”

“Oh, okay,” you turned on your heels, walking into your room and quickly putting together a duffel bag filled with essentials.

Twenty minutes later had you riding the back seat with the Winchesters in the front, rock music flooding the space as Dean sped through the highway. Sam was researching stuff on his laptop and you couldn’t help but to marvel at his ability to always have connection. “Hacking, it’s frankly one of the easiest things to do on the computer,” he had told you when you had asked him about it.

“Y/N,” Dean lowered the music and glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry I interrupted you back there. Were you gonna tell me something?”

“Oh, it can wait, don’t worry,” you waved it away, winking playfully before plugging your earphones into your ears and looking out the window. You really didn’t want for your talk to be in the car with Sam around. It would have to wait.

The hunt was particularly grueling. The vamps Rob had been tracking were vicious and quite strong. By the time you three had ambushed the nest, Dean’s hunter friend had been drained of so much blood that Sam was forced to leave with him in the Impala.

“We’ll wait for you when you’re done dropping Rob off at the hospital, now go,” Dean tapped the roof of the car and Sam pulled away from the warehouse.

Dean and you went back to make sure there were no other victims left. The ones that had been chained out in the open were already long dead and corpses littered the property. Thinking that you were alone, the Winchester let his guard down and walked over to you. He was opening his mouth to tell you something when your eyes widened and you screeched in horror.

“Dean, watch out!” a vampire was coming at him, fangs bared and nails extended.

“Son of a—” he grunted, unable to pull out his machete, forcing himself to hold back the monster with his bare hands.

You watched in terror as Dean wrestled with the vamp, grunting in pain at claws biting into his skin, but keeping the fight consistent and succeeding in frustrating the thing even more. You froze in place, mouth drying at the thought of losing Dean. You had not wanted to accept it before, due to getting over Paul and making sure the hunter wasn’t a rebound, but in that second you realized that you loved Dean. He was everything you had wanted and Sam’s words had sent your heart beat through the roof, not quite believing it was you who had the older man wanting to finally settle down.

With a newfound rage at having him being attacked, you struck the vampire’s neck, slicing through and having its head tumble to the floor. Dean kicked off the corpse and was about to get on his feet when you collapsed on top of him.

“Are you okay?” you straddled his hips, your hands cupping his jaw and making sure he was alright.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he chuckled, arms unconsciously landing on your waist. “It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

“Oh, thank God,” you leaned down and pressed your lips to his, kissing Dean fiercely and pouring all of your bottled-up affections into it. His eyes widened before closing shut and melting into the kiss.

* * *

You pulled away first, breathing short as your face broke out into an elated grin. Dean’s arms tightened around your waist as he buried his face into your neck, kissing the soft skin. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling his body to yours and relishing in being at such a close proximity to him.

“So, it took me fighting a crazed vamp for you to realize, huh?” Dean teased, biting your collarbone playfully.

“In my defense, I didn’t want you being a rebound for Paul,” you kissed his cheek. “I knew I had some feelings for you, but wanted to be sure about them.”

“You could have at least told me,” he snorted.

“Well, now you know,” you teased, to which he laughed softly. Dean and you continued to share soft kisses, lips moving against each other lazily as Dean’s fingers wandered up and down your back. His tongue slowly traced the outline of your mouth before licking inside, taking his time in getting to know what made you sigh in bliss.

“Ahem,” Sam cleared his throat, standing in the doorway with a smirk on his face. “I know I’m interrupting something but it’s in a middle of a vamp nest, maybe you should wait until we get home.”

“Thanks for the tip, Sam,” you rolled your eyes, pushing away from Dean and getting on your feet. The older Winchester followed your actions promptly and picked up his weapon from the floor. You were about to start following Sam out of the building when a warm hand interlaced its fingers with yours.

“Don’t think you’ll escape that easily,” he winked and he leaned close to peck your lips. His arm snaked around your waist and your steps synchronized themselves with Dean’s.

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam tossed the car keys to Dean, opening the passenger door and making to climb in. You quickly pulled away from Dean and scampered into the seat, grinning cheekily up at the tall man.

“Thank you for holding the door open, Sammy,” you winked. He rolled his eyes as Dean laughed heartily, walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat. With a slight pout, Sam accepted his fate and sat in the backseat.

Dean managed to maneuver the steering wheel with just one hand as his other one reached out for you and interlaced your fingers with his. For him, it was quite unbelievable that you had made the first move after a few weeks. Although tempted to kiss you at various points, he never did it out of respect, being that you always seemed to be reluctant about him being closer to you. Having your lips against his categorized as one of the best feelings he had ever experienced in his life.

The drive back took a few hours, the sun setting over the horizon as you closed your eyes and listened to Dean’s music flow through the speakers. You felt a kiss being pressed to your forehead and groaned at the realization that you had fallen fast asleep.

“Hey, baby,” Dean’s face was the first thing you saw and you grinned widely. “We’re stopping to eat something, come on,” he held out his hand and you took it, stepping out of the car and following Dean towards a diner.

Sam was already in there and had reserved a table, typing away in his keyboard. You slid into the booth, followed by Dean, who immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulder. While Dean ordered a hamburger, you followed Sam’s lead and ordered a salad, not being too hungry yourself. After half an hour, you announced that you were going to visit the restroom and Dean climbed out of the booth to let you through.

On your way back to the table, a man about your age approached you, eyes raking up and down your body in a way that made you want to take a scalding hot shower and run the other way. He smiled crookedly and moved closer to you.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” his voice made shivers run down your spine. “I bet you’d be an amazing lay. Wanna come out back to my truck?”

“Get away from me, you bastard,” you spat, turning on your heels and heading towards you table.

“Hey,” he grabbed your elbow and harshly pulled you to him.

“Hey, get away from her,” there was chaos as you were pulled once again, ending up in Sam’s arms as Dean punched the creepy man right in the jaw.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man groaned, cradling his injury.

“Someone who you run away from,” Dean’s nostrils flared as he made to raise his fist once again.

“Alright, buddy, I’m sorry, didn’t know she was with you,” the guy began to back away until he had skittered out the door. Dean glared at him until he was out of sight, turning to glance at you. His expression suddenly changed, worry overtaking it as he cupped your jaw.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he kissed your nose.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you scoffed, kissing his lips. “Thank you for that, but just know that I can defend myself,” you winked.

“I know you can, but no one touches my girl like that,” he shrugged nonchalantly as you rolled your eyes.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Sam urged, packing his laptop into his backpack and holding the door opened for you and Dean to walk out.  

“Your girl, huh?” you glanced up at him, smirk decorating your face as he held your waist.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear.  You chuckled and felt your cheeks redden at the thought of being Dean’s one and only. You were truly flattered, he was not one to tie himself to a single girl.

“Well, in that case, you should ask me out formally,” you teased, wondering how he would respond. “I want a proper date and the whole mumbo jumbo.”

“Okay,” Dean pecked your cheek. “Give me a few days, then.”

“Wait, I was kidding, Dean,” you paused in front of the Impala’s passenger door.

“No, you weren’t,” he smirked. “But don’t worry, I’ll blow your mind,” he made an explosion noise before opening the door for you. You shook your head and climbed in, once again getting comfortable and leaning your head on the window. You felt Dean’s hand on your thigh and took it as an invitation to interlace your fingers through the spaces of his, squeezing and falling asleep with your heart beating erratically over the thought of Dean taking you out to dinner.

The following days were full of constant flirting between you and the older Winchester. He’d always have his arm wrapped around you, kissing your lips continually and making you laugh more times than you could count. You were pleased to see this new side of Dean: the shy one who sometimes didn’t know where to look when you looked into his eyes too long, or the one who had to hold himself back from letting his hands wander when he was kissing you. He wanted to do things right and take you out before letting anything happen.

The day finally arrive where you woke up to Dean gone from the bunker. You took your bowl of cereal to the library, where Sam was quietly reading a book.

“Hey, where’s your brother?” you sat across from him.

“Your boyfriend,” he looked up at you, smirking as you rolled your eyes. “Is out, went to run some errands or whatever.”

“He could have taken me,” you pouted.

“If he wanted you around, he would have asked,” Sam shrugged.

“Jerk,” you mumbled as he chuckled.

Two hours passed before you heard the telltale sound of the bunker’s door being opened and then slammed closed. You dashed out of the library and to the main room, head tilted upwards to watch as Dean descended the stairs.

“Where have you been, Winchester?” you crossed your arms.

“Who knew Marta liked me more than you?” he teased, embracing you and kissing your lips softly.

“You went to see Marta?” you pulled away, a brow raised.

“Yeah,” he nodded and began to pull away. “Now, I need you to get dressed and we are out of here in…” he paused and glanced at his wristwatch. “An hour and a half.”

“Alright,” you chuckled, turning around and starting to walk to your room. You remembered having teased Dean about asking you out on a date and felt yourself growing giddier by the second.

Just as he had promised, Dean was knocking on your bedroom door an hour and a half later. You finished putting on the last touches of your makeup, straightening the small, black dress you had found hidden deep in the corner of your closet, and walked to the door. Dean’s jaw dropped, eyes widening as he took you in.

“Wow,” he cleared his throat, trying to not stare at you too long and forcing his eyes to look into yours instead of how incredible your legs looks in the fishnet stockings. “Uh, well, I lost what I was going to tell you, thanks, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, fiddling nervously with your purse’s clutch.

“Oh, yeah, um,” he coughed nervously. “Y/N, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

You wanted to retort some smart ass comment back, but Dean really meant this and you realized it wasn’t the time to tease him. Instead, you bit down on your bottom lip before smiling. “Yes, I’d love that, Dean.”

“Awesome,” he beamed, holding out his arm for you to loop yours through. “Let’s get going, baby.”

“You look quite handsome, by the way,” you patted his pectoral as Dean closed the bunker’s door behind you and started to lead you to the Impala.

“T-thanks,” he chuckled, glancing down at himself. He was wearing khaki pants, along with a button down, purple dress shirt with the sleeves folded right up to his elbows.

“Who gave you the fashion advice?” you climbed into the car as he held the door opened for you, winking gratefully.

“Rather not talk about it,” Dean mumbled, slamming the door close after sitting in the driver’s seat. He really didn’t want to explain to you how he had walked in awkwardly into a small boutique, shyly asking the attendant for help. She immediately called two of her other coworkers and they basically fawned over him as they made Dean try on outfit after outfit until he had found one that didn’t make him look as ridiculous as the other ones.

It turned out that Dean had talked to Marta about setting up a small place in the nearby park for a formal dinner just between the two of you. Although he had been mostly talking on the phone with her, today he had been gone for most of the day in order to make sure the chef had delivered exactly what he wanted, and to also buy the hideous clothes he was currently wearing.

The small clearing was lighted by a series of string lights that ran around to form a rectangle around the table for two set up. There was a bottle of wine, two glass cups as a waiter smiled as you both approached. You felt your jaw slacken and paused mid-step, Dean accidentally pulling you with him as he didn’t noticed you had stopped.

“D-Dean, what?” you swallowed thickly.

“Is your mind blown?” he laughed softly. “Come on,” he nudged you forward until you reached the dinner table. The waiter was holding out the seat for you, but Dean quickly stepped in and asked for permission to do it himself. He winked and motioned for you to sit. You complied and almost jumped at Marta exclaiming her elation to see you. Dean took his place across from you.

“Oh, don’t you look absolutely radiant,” she leaned down and kissed your cheek. “And my, my, Dean, I never thought you’d look so handsome,” she squeezed his cheeks before pecking his cheek.

“Thanks, Marta,” he chuckled, glancing down at his lap. You smiled softly at him, nudging his foot under the table and prompting him to look at you.

“Okay, without further interruptions, I’m going to step away and let you two lovebirds begin your date,” she winked before scurrying away to a small minivan. You tilted your head in curiosity.

“She did me the favor of bringing the food all the way over here,” Dean answered your silent question. “She was so happy we were still together,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re right, she does like you more,” you scoffed.

“I know,” he smirked, signaling for the waiter to begin serving the wine.

To your surprise, Dean chose your favorite Italian platter and you were soon closing your eyes in bliss at Marta’s impeccable cooking skills. Dean smiled as he watched you enjoy your food, keeping the conversation to a minimal as he also sampled just how great Marta was in the kitchen. Desert was brought a little later and once again, Dean knew just what made you sigh as soon as you had a taste of. Tiramisu was the one dessert you could never say no to and the Winchester knew that, having asked Marta to prepare you a fairly big chunk of it.

“Wow, Dean, you sure are full of surprises,” you dabbed at the corners of your mouth after setting the spoon down.

“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint,” he chuckled, standing up and holding out his hand. “I know you’d like to stay here and let the food go down, but I want us to be alone,” he squeezed your hand as you placed it on his and quickly thanked the waiter, handing him money, before leading you to the car.

“Where are we going now?” you eagerly asked.

“This isn’t getting any more special,” he laughed softly, letting you get into the vehicle before closing it. “The next thing isn’t as unique as that dinner, you could say.”

“I think you have done enough for the night,” you smiled. “We can go back to the bunker and cuddle up while watching Dr. Sexy M.D.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, taking your hand as he pulled out of the driveway. “We’re going somewhere else.”

“Okay,” you nodded, accepting that Dean was far from finishing this date.

He didn’t fail to surprise you, a few minutes later pulling out of the highway and into a hidden pathway laden thick with trees. After half a minute of bumping and jumping about in the car as it revved through the rough path, you came to a large clearing. You gasped at the vastness of it, the grass softly folding under the breeze. Dean smiled as he took in your reaction, parking the car next to a big oak and clambering out. You followed suit, meeting Dean as he was about to reach to open the door for you. He grinned and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Now, we sit on the hood and watch that beautiful sky,” he winked playfully, hoisting you up and sitting you on top of the still-warm car. He jumped up and sat next to you, getting comfortable and leaning against the windshield. You took the chance to do the same, his arms taking you in their hold and your head ending up on his shoulder.

“I’m still in disbelief at seeing you like this,” you broke the silence.

“Well, what can I say? I make quite the impression when I try to,” he grinned, turning his head towards you and kissing your temple.

“You sure do,” you laughed, tilting your head and looking up at him.

Dean smiled before leaning down and capturing your lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss. His fingers cupped your jaw as he patiently deepened the kiss, taking his time to carve his mouth to yours until they moved in the same rhythm. His tongue mapped out the space between your lips, teasing you as he began to explore inside. Everything was slow, deliberately building up the excitement for you.

You threaded your fingers through his blond locks, relishing in the groan that emanated from his throat. Dean began to kiss you more fiercely, hands squeezing your waist as they wandered downwards and took a hold of your thighs. With a single motion, he had you straddling his hips as he laid back against the glass, mouth pulling away from yours to litter your neck with kisses. You gnawed on your bottom lip, hand going to rest on the windshield next to Dean’s head and hold you up.

Meanwhile, Dean’s hands grabbed your ass and squeezed, more desperate in his actions. You felt the sudden urge to speed things up, jerking your hips down and moaning at the growing hardness that pressed against your core. There were a few layers of clothes between you, but you could still feel the heat of his length, which made you move your hips down harshly.

“Shit, baby, shit,” he sought out your mouth once again, tongue plunging in and licking desperately.

“Dean, please,” you gasped. “I want you inside me, Dean.”

“Alright, sweetheart, okay,” he nodded fervently, leaning up on his elbow before the metal seem to have given way and dented. At this, Dean paused and you laughed at just how much the man loved his car. “We should move this to the backseat, hm?”

“Let’s go,” you winked and pulled him with you as you slid off the hood. He latched his lips to your shoulder as you crawled your way to the backdoor of the black car. With a bit of a struggle, you managed to heave open the door and Dean pushed you in, climbing in after you and slamming the door close.

“Come here,” you giggled, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. With enough time to calm himself down, Dean decided to take things a little slower. He wasn’t going to fuck some random girl this time. It was you who he was about to become intimate with. This was all about making love to you. He almost snorted at the cheesy thought, but knew it to be true. You were different.

He sat up, smiling down at you as his fingers began to unbutton his dress shirt. Once they were done, your hands wandered up his stomach and chest, pushing the shirt off his shoulders as Dean slid it off his arms. You sat up, mouth pressing wet kisses to the warm skin of his chest as he gasped and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“Z-zipper,” you moaned, tongue laving at his anti-possession tattoo.

“Y/N,” Dean moaned out your name as his fingers deftly unzipped your dress, hands spreading across your bare back, digits spreading to squeeze you closer to him. Your bra was the next to go, his expertise at taking them off showing as he managed to unbuckle it with a single flick of his wrist. He smirked, only to burst out laughing at you rolling your eyes.

His hands traveled to your front again, gently cupping your breasts in his hands and slightly squeezing. He thumbed at the hardening nipples, leaning his head down to take one into his mouth. The flat of his tongue rubbed against it before he sucked, pulling away to give the other nipple the same treatment.

You arched your neck back, your breathing becoming ragged at how good it felt having Dean invade your senses like that. He suddenly pulled away and your eyes snapped open. What had you done wrong? Dean heard your small whine, glancing up from where he had been unbuttoning his dress pants and smirked.

“Just readying myself, baby,” he winked. He pulled down his pants and underwear mid-thigh, enough to pull out his length. You groaned at seeing his hard cock, cum beading at the tip and curving upwards.

“Dean, please, get inside me,” you moaned.

“Okay, baby, sh,” he ran his hand up your thigh, opening your legs until he could fit between them. Slightly uncomfortable, he moved to have your leg rest on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck, I had forgotten you had chosen to get the tattoo on your hip, he groaned, tracing your own anti-possession tattoo. You shivered at his gentle touch, hips jerking up to maintain the contact with him. “It was so hot watching you get this done,” he kissed your inner thigh. “I had to muster up all my self-control to not get a boner in that shop.”

“Dean,” you scoffed, not believing that the hunter had crushed on you for such a long time. You had gotten your tattoo way back when, almost three years ago.

“I’m not kidding,” he laughed dryly, hand moving to jack himself off a few times. “Sam had to kick me under the table because I couldn’t stop looking at you. Fuck, it was so hot,” he positioned himself, the cockhead slowly penetrating you.

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” your back arched, skin squeaking against the leather seats.

“Oh, shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned loudly, moving forward painstakingly slow as he let you get adjusted to his girth. Once he was buried deep inside, he forced himself to stop and wait for your permission to begin thrusting.

“Okay, move, baby, move,” you urged, arms wounding around his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pressed his lips to yours, tongue licking inside at the same rhythm of his hips as he began to move. His strokes were slow and long, enough for you to feel every inch of his throbbing length.

The car filled up with pants and moans, along with the sound of skin rustling against leather as Dean quickened his movements. He was soon panting into your mouth, pelvis driving his cock inside you at a faster speed and the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot.

You hit your peak within minutes, body jerking and head arching as a moan escaped your throat. Dean’s deep, guttural groan made you shiver as you felt his hot cum coat your walls, cock pulsing as he finished himself off inside you. He slowly halted his thrusts and remained inside you as his arms snaked around you, pulling you close to him and kissing your forehead.

“I love you,” he gasped. “I know I’m not one to say this, but I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” you kissed him softly, fingers settling on the nape of his neck.


End file.
